Getting used to FOOBS!

I'm a big fan of made up words.  I like to play around on Urban Dictionary and have even submitted a few of my own definitions.  Well, I heard this one and immediately loved it.  FOOBS=Fake Boobs.

As promised, this week I will touch on what it's like when you're forced to get used to foobs.  I use "forced" because I didn't choose to be diagnosed with breast cancer and I do not want to live the rest of my life as the CEO of the itty bitty titty committee.  But actually, I'm not forced to have reconstruction.  Many women find it liberating to go without foobs and I have viewed many pictures of women that have a tattoo in place of reconstruction. During my two weeks as CEO I'm happy that I opted for immediate reconstruction.

I have posted about getting "pumped up" on facebook, but I haven't really explained what they do.  After the boob chop, my surgeon (Dr. Joseph Crowe: amazing and I highly recommend him) handed me over to my plastic surgeon (Dr. Risal Djohan: equally amazing, highly recommend him and also kind of demanding;)).  Dr. Djohan placed tissue expanders where my real boobies once were (except under the muscle) and sewed me up.  (He used three layers of stitching and the outside was closed with durabond (medical glue)). When I look at pictures online of other women two weeks post op, my incision sites are at the very top as far as appearance is concerned. 

Now I go see Dr. Djohan once every week/two to get pumped up.  The tissue expanders are a hard, but movable plastic.  Since they are placed under muscle, when they pump me up, they are also expanding muscle.  This causes muscle spasms and pain.   Sharp pain that takes your breath away.

The day before my second expansion, I met the newest addition to my team of doctors.  I prepared for my appointment. Paperwork:check. Mam X-rays: check. Lab results, path results, prescription list, treating docs, etc: check check check. I am a well informed patient.  I took the picture below to encourage others to do the same.  If you aren't responsible for your care, on your toes and inquisitive, who is keeping the doctors informed, up to date and ready?  You have to fight hard for your life if you want them to join you in the very important fight.
 

I pulled in the drive to the radiologist appointment and remembered all of my dad's appointments there.... You simply can't prepare for that.  I'm terrible with directions. I can't decipher North/South when I'm driving. I don't look for landmarks. I type in the address and listen to the lady talk to me. I knew the office was at St. Luke's, but it didn't register that it was Northwest Ohio Oncology building, Dr. Ritter's office until I was in the parking lot. My paperwork read Toledo Radiation Oncology and I was focused on Dr. Shaneli Fernando. Well, no matter how prepared you are for an appointment, this kind of take your breath away feeling isn't something you can prepare for! Luckily I left in enough time to sit in the parking lot and compose myself.  I prayed.  I cried. I took deep breaths. I told my dad how much I miss him.  I thanked God for all that I have.

And I walked in the doctor's office with my head held high and ready to discuss radiation.  I loved Dr. Fernando.  I instantly clicked with her like I did with my oncologist, Dr. Dushkin.  She commented that it is refreshing to have a patient so well informed and level headed when it comes to risk vs. reward.  Bluntly I explained that my life is the reward that I want the most and the appearance of my foobs is secondary to that. 

My plastic surgeon is a perfectionist.  He is fighting for the reward of wonderful looking and feeling foobs.  I want wonderful looking and feeling foobs, but my most important goal is life.  The radiologist needs to do what she needs to do regardless of the foobs.  So,  when we discussed some of the side effects of radiation, I made my objective clear.  Blast away and we'll deal with skin breakdown if it comes to that.  Skin breakdown and scarring sometimes occurs due to the radiation.  Sometimes this requires the tissue expanders to be removed and then you're back at square one with the foobs.  Subsequent surgeries would have to take place to start another foob and this situation would be super *not fun.  Still, the radiation is necessary for my end goal of living a long life.  It is more important to me, even it compromises my foobs. I want to make sure there is not a cancer recurrence if at all possible.

With this in mind, my radiologist informed me that she would like to start radiation sooner rather than later.  She laughed and said to tell my plastics that he should work his magic since he expects the top results from her.  I told my plastics that my radiologist wants to fit me by mid-November and he has agreed to pump me up by then.

For this to happen though, they are going to have to pump me up at a quicker pace.  Marci played taxi for me this week.  She was able to join me for one of the most amusing appointments because I had some fun questions. So, I laid on the table as she read off my list of questions and Dr. Djohan answered.   How fragile are my foobs?  When can I run?  When can I yoga?  When can I be intimate?  While he was answering the questions, he stuck a needle into each foob and added more fluid. Today they put 80ccs of fluid into each foob. My new rack is expanded to the point that it hurts to breathe, but no pain, no gain, right!? I'm going in next week for more! 

My incisions are healing well!  I need to continue to massage the tissue to minimize scar tissue.  I'm allowed to jog and start to raise my arms! 

I'm still getting used to foobs.

I am starting back to work tomorrow though, so I must attempt to sleep now!

Sweet dreams of perky, pretty, minimally radiation effected foobs,





Marci asked if she was supposed to document a pump up appointment.  I'm not THAT confident in my foobs yet.  Not sure if I will ever be, but I will model for the inquisitive minds.  Don't scroll down if you're not nosey;)










STOP SCROLLING, SHEESH;)








Yes, I blocked this post on my little cousins facebook newsfeed and any other high school monster that I'm friends with.





 You will not be able to see scars in a bra/swim suit other than a little tiny bit in my left arm pit.  I'm almost a B already and I'm modeling a hand me down bra from one of my besties.

Mark it down, I'm a survivor

If you read my facebook status last week after my appointment, maybe you were one of the many that were confused, but too shy to ask further?  Maybe you googled?  Maybe you read the optimistic tone and were satisfied that the results were all positive?  A few asked for more detail and a few of my blog followers don't facebook, so here is more of an update of my follow-up appointment and my recovery.

This was my facebook status and what the doctors were VERY PLEASED WITH:

Stage 2a. Two separate masses. CLEAR MARGINS!!!

6 lymph nodes taken. 1 lymph macrometasteses 2.5 mm. 1 lymph micromastastes (teeny tiny cancer cell) 4 lymph nodes without tumor cells.

Good news!! Radiation in a couple months to zap any remaining c-cells.

No more drain tubes and expansion was successful today!

Thanks so much for all the prayers!

This is what I really thought:

Who cares what they stage me at now?  If they would have done surgery prior to chemotherapy, I would have been staged 2c-3b.  Yes, it's GREAT that the chemo shrunk the masses, but what difference does the number make!?  When I was first diagnosed, I was obsessed with what stage I was.  I googled, I read books, I read pamphlets.  All of the information offered statistics-based on stage. But if I had to have chemo to achieve that stage, what's the difference?

Two separate masses. Indifferent.  What does it matter if I had one bigger tumor or two little ones?  When they stage, it matters.  If you have two tumors smaller than X, it's one letter.  When you have one tumor greater than X, it's another letter.  Does it really matter?  I have the same amount of stupid effing cancer floating around in my (unusually perky for having children) b-cup.

Going into surgery, I was most concerned with the lymph nodes.  As I've talked about before, cancer likes to spread to different parts of the body.  Lymph nodes are the way the nasty cells travel.  When I had my biopsy the report on my lymph node read: MASSIVELY OVERGROWN WITH CARCINOMA. (NOT GOOD) What I wanted to hear when they read my path report was that only dead cancer cells OR NORMAL cells were in all of the lymph nodes they retrieved from under my arm.  I don't care it the one lymph node only had ONE cell in the entire lymph node and the other it was a teeny tiny collection.   I didn't want ANY! 

I was pissed.  I held it together in the appointments.  The surgeon was quick and too the point-successful surgery, clear margins, chemo worked.  My oncologist came from a different building of the Cleveland Clinic just to review the results with me in person because she knows that I want to know exactly what is going on AND she wanted to tell me that I'm cancer free and hug me. She looked me straight in the eye and told me that she is out to cure me and that they got it...ALL.

EXCEPT I know too many people that have had cancer.

So when Heidi called to check my mental status, I couldn't mask my disappointment.  When I walked around the house Tuesday-Friday I couldn't smile unless the kids were watching me.

Yes, I was and am ELATED that the chemo shrunk the cancer.  I'm glad that I went with my instinct and started chemo immediately so that the doctors were able to get clear margins during surgery.  I think that my team of highly qualified medical professionals will do everything in their power to kill this beast. 

But, I went through hell this summer.  I have huge scars and painful scar tissue where my perky b-cups used to be.  I WANTED NO LYMPH NODES.

Further, my cousin told everyone that physically I would be fine.  I thought she was crazy.  I knew what I was getting into.  I looked at pictures online.  I have seen her incision.  I saw it when it was fresh.  I knew what I was getting into. So I thought.

When you look down in the shower and all you see is two huge incisions and your fat belly that used to look MUCH smaller because your boobs hid it, it's tough.  It's hard to force yourself to get up and walk because that will help the healing when really it would be so much easier to take a pain killer and go back to sleep.  It's hard to think that I still have many trips to "get pumped up", radiation, at least my ovaries taken if not a total hysterectomy and 10+years of drugs to go and not feel deflated.

I have already worked so hard and there is proof.  The cancer responded to the chemo.  I have the scars to prove clear margins.  Yet, I still have a long way to go.

-----------------------------------------------

Saturday I decided I was over feeling sorry for myself.  I asked a friend to go walking.  Since then I've walked 2.5-3.5 miles every day.  I've watched the kids play in the backyard, walked to all the parks in town, went to the zoo, went to the mall and I'm even going into work for a few hours tomorrow.  I've looked at my husband in the eye rather than looking off in the distance to never never land feeling uncertain and scared.

I suppose I'm allowed to have a pity party for a few days, right? 

But I'm ready now.  Meeting with my radiation oncologist Monday to set up the plan of attack.  Traveling to Cleveland on Tuesday to get "pumped up" again.  Fully aware that they find traces of c-cells in the lymph nodes of A LOT of breast cancer SURVIVORS.  I'm ready to make sure my name is on the top of that list. I'm ready make my mark in ink, fully aware of all of my blessings.

Cards, jewelry, FOOD (NO MORE SWEETS!! I NEED TO FIT IN MY CLOTHES!!), pjs, encouragement, flowers, texts, calls, PRAYERS.

SO.MANY.PRAYER WARRIORS.  SO MANY PRAYERS.

So unbelievably blessed,


 

Surgery and postop

We woke up the day of surgery actually feeling rested and well. I might have shot a couple laser beams out of my eyes when we were running late, but I didn't turn anyone into a green alien. I consider that a success. 

We checked in a little after 9:30am and our buzzer rang minutes later. The first surgery was ahead of schedule and my preop started immediately. My plastic surgeon met us in preop and offered to answer any last minute questions. We told him we were set and he promised my family he would take great care of me. 

They started my iv, checked to make sure I wasn't prego (eeek, I probably would have fainted) and asked us to say goodbye. I hugged and kissed my mom, cousin, ash, Laura and Aaron and then I took a trip to the OR with a young gentlemen that recently broke up with his girlfriend. He told me about how she cheated and lied and that he'd still take her back. If he was trying to get my mind off the surgery, it worked;)

Outside the OR my surgeons nurse and the anesthesia expert met me and asked me what I was there for: double mastectomy with lymph node dissection. Yes, jake is my brother, but I'm much cooler than him and please don't base my surgery on your opinion of him;)

They wheeled me into the OR and I met the rest of the team. Doctors, nurses, and one more hug and kiss from my baby brother. They huddled and a sweet nurse told me she has been praying for me since they found out. That's all I remember until I woke up in recovery.

I was still pretty groggy when I woke up and didn't know either of the nurses next to me. I looked at the clock and started to panic!! They told me to expect 5.5-6 hours. It was only 3:30...just over four hours. They asked me if I wanted to wait alone for them to get the recovery room ready or if I wanted my husband. I wanted my husband (I was on drugs;)). When he walked in I asked him why they stopped the surgery? What's wrong?? 

He told me that everything went as planned and the doctors were very confident that the chemotherapy worked well!! Surgery could not have went better. 

I still thought they were lying to me. Heidi and my mom confirmed what Aaron told me, but I don't think I truly believed they did it until my assessment by the nurse when I took a peak. The itty bitty titty committee has a new chairperson! 

I ate the night of surgery, used the restroom and even walked the halls! They discharged me the next day and I felt pretty good all day and slept well at the Runion Hotel!

Friday I insisted on a shower. I wanted it before breakfast and I was overly confident in my abilities (similar to when I had the biopsy and turned green). I might have blacked out for a brief minute after the shower. It might have freaked both Aaron and myself out. Since then, I have been a much more compliant patient. 

Friday was pretty rough. I was scared from the fall and not in the greatest spirits, but by the end of the night I felt better. Leah, Tory, Jake and Laine all talked hospital and we enjoyed the company of our siblings.

Saturday morning I felt much better. I ate breakfast before I showered. Laine took out my pain pump and we decided to make the trip home.

 I still have two drain tubes that need measured three times a day. I can tell when the pain meds wear off. It's not fun to need assistance doing everyday tasks. I'm terrible at rest! I'm trying though. 

Tomorrow (Tuesday) is my follow up appointment. They will "pump me up" a little (add some fluid to my tissue expanders), hopefully take out at least one if the drains, but most importantly they will go over my pathology report. The stage of my cancer will be discussed. Clear margins will be a hot topic. 

So, that's the update! I'm up and mobile.  Writing this entry from Lilly's soccer game even! Thank you all so very much for all the love and prayers! A few more prayers for tomorrows appointment are appreciated!  

With lots of love,

CEO Itty Bitty Titty Committee 

Laura L. Strong

Preop

Postop

Day after waiting for them to discharge!!

Keep Your Head Up

Keep your head up, keep your heart strong!

 

All I was searching for was me.

Last week when I checked in, my head was kind of a mess.  I was overwhelmed by thoughts of surgery and how I was going to manage getting everything done and ready for my absence at the house, work, church, etc?  Overwhelmed. 

This weekend I devoted my time to the monsters while they were awake and to ME when they were sleeping.  I sipped mimosas with a few of my besties when the monsters went to school on my day off.  I had a secret society meeting with a few amazing women.  I READ!! I haven't carved out time to read in, well, since I was diagnosed.  I have attempted to read a book from a dear friend a few times, but I couldn't muster the concentration required to sit with ME. Alone in the quiet.

I've been searching A LOT lately.  For the perfect post-surgery bra. For a way to tell your children what to expect after surgery.  For ways to organize a household of active monsters while the manager is out of commission.  For temporary help at work.  For the instructions to set up my phone to receive work email.  For the most comfortable button-up pjs.  For anything really so that I don't have to just sit and be with ME.

 But what I really needed to search for was me. 

I needed to focus. Listen to my heart.  Have the difficult conversations rather than continue worry about them.  I needed to just. sit. still. and close my eyes and breathe.

So, this weekend I sat with my beautiful monsters and we talked about surgery.  My white haired baby boy asked me if I was going to survive. (Not sure where he's hearing this word or even that he knows what it means, but when you hear this blunt questions from such a cute little monster, it's certainly enough to take your breath away.) The best response I could muster was simply to tell him, "that's the plan, bud"! 

My curly haired baby girl asked if they can come and visit me at the hospital or Uncle Jakey's and I had to tell her no. Even though Mommy would love to see them as soon as surgery is over, my body will not be ready for little ones to visit for a few days. In the meantime, I just want them all to have fun with their grandparents and friends.  She teared up and said she will miss me and it took everything in me not to breakdown. 

While we were discussing the surgery, my monster that jumps up and down all day long just absorbed it all ...until I tucked her in later that evening.  Mommy, I read the what to expect when your Mom has cancer book again.  I think I'm ready for the surgery.  We've been learning chores lately so that we can help, right? Camille and I have a plan.  Monday and Saturday we will sweep the downstairs and Wednesday we will fold towels.  We will all keep our room picked up and tuck you in every night when you come home.

She's eight.

I hate that she has to get this, but I told her that all sounded wonderful.  In addition, Daddy especially needs them all to be good listeners.   She agreed.

It was difficult.  I know I'll have a hard time leaving them Tuesday night.  I know that they can't truly wrap their heads around what is in store next week, but I'm going with honesty is the best policy.  I've been holding off on the conversations because I didn't want to scare them.  Cancer is scary though.

As I was searching for me, I asked myself a couple tough questions.  The 'what if' questions that you don't really discuss.  Rather than let them eat at me, I bluntly asked my partner what his expectations of me are.  As the mother of his children, as his wife and best friend, what would he expect IF.

If this or that or this and that or after this long or after that treatment.  What do YOU expect of ME.  What do I expect of ME and what am I willing to do.

I've thought about how he could have picked any woman and he picked me.  I was thinking, "Man, he drew the short straw on this one!" But after we talked and I know what he expects, I know that no matter what happens, he already has the very best parts of me. 

The little boy that told me last week, "Mommy, I love you more than God loves me".   The little girl that climbed into bed last night and whispered, "Can I lay with you tonight, I didn't get to see you that much today".  The young girl that's always smiling, yet wise beyond her years, that plans to play Mommy in my absence.

And you know what, that's enough.  Even if all of the "what-ifs" happen, that's enough.

Now. Now that I've had the difficult conversations, I can take the rest of the week to search for me.  Feed my soul with the food it has so desperately been calling for.  I was searching for all of the things that I thought I needed, but all I needed to search for was me. 

I'm ready now.  My body and mind are strong and ready to fight, no matter what they find when they open me up.

Special prayers today for Erica as she meets with doctors and maps out the course of action.  Special prayers for AD tomorrow for good test results. Special prayers for AC to make a full recovery.

SPECIAL THANK GOD for the BRCA results my cousins received recently and directional and loving prayers to my aunt that unfortunately is a carrier.

Keep your head up, keep your heart strong,


 

2013 First Day of School

Lilly: Third Grade-Mrs. Kissell

 

Lilly set her alarm, was dressed and had a waffle in the toaster before I was out of the shower.  Where did my baby go?  She was jumping up and down as I forced her to eat her breakfast and could not wait to go to school.  The boy that we tease her about is in her class for the first time this year and we are having a riot teasing her about him:)  All smiles from big sis on her first day!

 Bus Crew 2013!  Camille can't wait until her staggered start day when she gets to join them!

 Keegan: Preschool Year 2-Mr. Swindel

 

Momma's boy!

 

Looking good with his new do!  

Last year Keegan didn't want to get on the bus.  I was worried he would be hesitant and teary since he didn't have Camille to sit with this year.

 

Instead, he didn't want to give me a hug and obviously didn't want me to snap his picture! And Miss Beth was loving it:P

 

 

Camille: Kindergarten-Mrs. Melter

 

She might have been chewing on the sign that Diane Thatcher made.  It might have bled allllll over her hands and mouth and I MIGHT have wanted to scream!  But, I might have held it together because Cami is EXTREMELY sensitive and she was in a good mood and I didn't want to ruin it! 

 

Preschool Year 2, Kindergarten, 3rd Grade: MOMSTER and monsters are very excited to be back in school this year.  Routine, early bed times and morning cuddles!

 

Cami got to get a new back pack this year even though she didn't really need one.  I said yes mostly because she wanted an OSU and because she needs the reassurance from her peers that things are cool and Carson has the same one:)

As you can see, the smiles are MUCH bigger when she's at home, in her comfort zone.  As we walked to the bus stop, her grip tightened and tears started to form. 

 

I took the picture of the full bus crew and gave her a hug.  She whispered that she wanted me to stay until the bus arrived, so I did.  Luckily, Olivia is one of the older kids that Camille adores and when I asked her to take Cami's hand, she did it with a smile.

 

AND at school she found one of her besties and she's safe and sound in her class.  WITH a smile:)

 

 

 Since my monsters all started on a different day, I didn't want to blow up everyone's newsfeed each morning and thought I'd share here instead.  I hope all of the teachers and students had a great first week!  Go Wildcats!

 

 

 

Two week countdown

Today is the first day that I haven't had something to plan AND my mind is somewhat recovered from the party.  I arrived at work and I attempted to catch up on as much of the administrative work as possible.  The rest of the week I will wrap up the few client files that I have active and make notes on how to do most of the tasks I normally handle.

Two more weeks. 

Since I'm wrapping up at work and slowing down to spend more time with the kids and Aaron at home, I only have the surgery to think about.  Not a big sleepover, not a retreat, not a party, just surgery.

Two more weeks.

My mind wanders there often.  I have to set mini goals throughout the day so that I can accomplish anything other than WORRY. 

How long until Keegan will be able to give me a giant bear hug again?  He thought that every other week was a long time not to be able to squeeze me after I would have chemo treatment.  Post-op no bear hug is going to seem like eternity to him. 

Lilly asked me this morning if she has any games before surgery and if I will be there to watch her at all after surgery.  They hear everyone asking me about it and they know it's coming sooner rather than later.  Lilly wants to know every detail of her day and she's used to my planning out every minute of every day.  She knows that I know how many games I will see before surgery and how many I think I'll make post-op, but I don't want to tell her.  A month seems like a long time to me; it seems even longer to a child. 

Camille woke up in the middle of the night last night.  She didn't wake me up or even crawl into bed with me.  She tiptoed into my room, kissed my cheek and went back to her bed.  And I cried myself back to sleep.

Two more weeks.

Thankfully, I received a handout at the (AWESOME) retreat that I attended this weekend and I started to work on it tonight.  It is full of ideas on how to deal with anxiety, stress, etc. I have reminders that I wear everyday with words like: Blessed, Believe, Hope.  Amazingly, I met a new friend exactly at the moment that I needed someone to talk to last night. I was able to speak candidly with her about some of our fears and insecurities.  She walked by and I could have waved and smiled, but instead I called her over and asked her about her day.  An hour later we both left the park feeling a little less alone. I am taking time to remind myself of ALL the many blessings that surround me each and every day, but in the back of my mind I'm always thinking...

Two more weeks.

Two more weeks until I turn 32.  Quite some time ago at a Bible Study, we read a story about how Jesus and his disciples went away to rest, but people found him and needed him.  Rather than turn them away and tell them that they needed to refill their own cup or take a moment to rest, he worked harder.  He taught them many things and he instructed his disciples to feed them. 

In my mind, this was validation for me overdoing it.  I joked with my friends at Bible study something to the tune of: See, Jesus never took a break.  He went to the boat in an attempt to rest, but when push came to shove, he acted with compassion for those eager to hear His word.  I'm just trying to do more, be more, love more, care more.

And a friend pointed out:  Well, you only have a couple more years if you're going to continue to emulate His life.

I knew what she meant.  Jesus was a young man when He died.  Many believe Him to be around 33.(I'm sure some would like to argue His exact age, but that's really not the point of this post).  You know, right around my age!

We all laughed about how my friend shut me up with ease and all agreed that I should probably slow down a bit;)

But in two more weeks I'll be 32 and the very next day I'm having a major surgery.  A surgery that has a big part in how long I'll be around to do and be more. I can't help but to think of our study that day.  When will my work here be done?

Two more weeks until surgery, staging, and checking the cells to see if chemo killed all of the active c-word cells. While I'm writing about surgery, I should answer the question most people have asked: how long is my vacation booked at the Cleveland Clinic?  Depending on the time of day that they start my surgery, I will be in the hospital one or two days.  I plan to stay at my brothers house for a day or two after they release me so that I'm closer in case of an emergency and because I'm not going to be able to do anything for/with my children anyways for a week or so.  Once I return home, I plan to hibernate for a while.

So, that's where I'm at in my thought process.  Smiles are being shared with my family and friends, love is being squeezed out of my monsters and filling my heart and I'm coping with the anxiety the best way I know how to fight it: prayer and meditation!

 Maegan and some fellow Princesses that were crowned at the Ripple Retreat 2013!

 

Continuing to be His hands and feet for as long as I am granted.  I am loved.  I am His princess.

Keep praying,


Mark 6:31-44

New International Version (NIV)

³¹ Then, because so many people were coming and going that they did not even have a chance to eat, he said to them, “Come with me by yourselves to a quiet place and get some rest.”
³² So they went away by themselves in a boat to a solitary place. ³³ But many who saw them leaving recognized them and ran on foot from all the towns and got there ahead of them. ³⁴ When Jesus landed and saw a large crowd, he had compassion on them, because they were like sheep without a shepherd. So he began teaching them many things.
³⁵ By this time it was late in the day, so his disciples came to him. “This is a remote place,” they said, “and it’s already very late. ³⁶ Send the people away so that they can go to the surrounding countryside and villages and buy themselves something to eat.”
³⁷ But he answered, “You give them something to eat.”
They said to him, “That would take more than half a year’s wages^[a]! Are we to go and spend that much on bread and give it to them to eat?”
³⁸ “How many loaves do you have?” he asked. “Go and see.”
When they found out, they said, “Five—and two fish.”
³⁹ Then Jesus directed them to have all the people sit down in groups on the green grass. ⁴⁰ So they sat down in groups of hundreds and fifties. ⁴¹ Taking the five loaves and the two fish and looking up to heaven, he gave thanks and broke the loaves. Then he gave them to his disciples to distribute to the people. He also divided the two fish among them all. ⁴² They all ate and were satisfied, ⁴³ and the disciples picked up twelve basketfuls of broken pieces of bread and fish. ⁴⁴ The number of the men who had eaten was five thousand.

 

A Touchy Subject

Since most of the stuff that is going on in my head isn't my story to share, I'm going to attempt to write about how I feel about a touchy subject.  I'm not sure if I will hit the share button at the end because I am friends with my little cousins and a few kids from church on facebook and I certainly don't want them reading this.  I'm not sure if I'll even hit the publish button for the regular followers because even though I want to be open and honest in this breast cancer journey, I don't want people to feel sorry for me.  When I see people flash the pity look, I want to shake them and tell them not to feel sorry for me, I'm busy living and they should do the same.

But, surgery is quickly approaching.  I've been thinking about this "touchy subject" for a while.  I've been planning my days to make sure I am with the people most important to me.  I've been carving out time to spend with Aaron.  He's the one that's been chosen to have a sick wife and he's the one that will have the most constant reminder when treatment is complete.  I have a few weird friends that want to see and I'm sure my mom and Heid will check it out, but Aaron's the one that will have to see my body post-operation on a daily basis.  A body that will be drastically different in a few short weeks. 

One of my girlfriends is 2 years post surgery and she still hides from her husband when she gets out of the shower.  She's a confident, beautiful woman and she hides.  Her husband helped change the dressings and drain tubes after surgery and still, she hides.

Am I going to hide?  Am I going to be able to mentally recover from the surgery in the bedroom?  Never mind that I will not have any feeling there at all (which is something that doesn't sound like much until you're the one dealing with it), but am I even going want my husband to see me?

Will I even be strong enough to look?  Will I hurry to cover myself from myself?

I've looked at the post-op pictures and they are scary.  I've viewed a ton of final result pictures that look pretty real and I've looked at even more final results pictures that suck.  I have a great plastics doctor, but a big part of the results is out of his hands.  How will my skin stretch? How will it hold up to radiation?  How bad will it scar?

Everyone jokes about how big I plan to get.  I just want them to look and feel like mine!  No bigger or smaller. Not perkier.  Not more symmetrical.   I want moles in the same place that they have always been and nipples that I can feel.

But, I want to live, so that simply isn't a possibility.

A touchy subject-I didn't want bigger boobs this bad.  Victoria Secret was doing just fine by me.


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